


Things I Can't Change

by highfivesatan



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, M/M, Rating May Change, Religion, enjoy, i'm basically just writing nicky and erik's story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 16:03:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8407912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highfivesatan/pseuds/highfivesatan
Summary: "I'm gay," said Nicky.Everything stopped.





	1. Take Me To Church

**Author's Note:**

> hellloooo wonderful people. don't feel at all obligated to read this intro, but i just wanted to go into a little detail as to why i'm writing this. basically i noticed that in the small but passionate fanfiction side of the aftg fandom, no one seems to have written nicky and erik's story!! and i know that in that scene in the library nicky told neil his coming out story and how erik helped him accept himself and all that cute stuff and i just really wanted to see how that all came to be. i'm also working on improving myself as a writer which includes exploring characterization and character development and different kinds of relationships and obviously the one and only nicholas esteban hemmick goes through a whole lot of all that. i know i've only written the prologue (which was super sad for me to write) so far but i hope you guys enjoy (: 
> 
> title taken from "things i can't change" by the story so far.
> 
> prologue title taken from "take me to church" by hozier.

 

In the Hemmick household, dinner was at six o’clock on the dot.

 

Showing up more than a few minutes later than that was rarely excusable. Tonight, however, Nicky was determined to give his parents no reason to be any more disappointed in him than he was soon sure to make them. So at precisely five fifty-five, Nicky shrunk from his bedroom into the living room and tried halfheartedly to concentrate on the baseball game his father had on the television. The commentator’s rumbling voice blaring from the speakers did little to calm Nicky’s roiling stomach, and neither did tonight’s resolve to not back out like he’d done so many times in the past. The prospect would have to remain daunting until the very moment Nicky got it over with.

 

Nicky chewed his fingernails down to nothing until Maria called him and his father into the kitchen.

 

Dinner tonight was fettuccine, but there was no way Nicky was going to stomach anything heavier than water. Maria brought out the covered glass bowl of pasta, the salad, the bread, the butter, and the wine for herself and Luther. As soon as she was seated, all three Hemmicks bowed their heads and said grace. It was silent, as Nicky’s father expected his wife and son to use their own words during prayer, but all Nicky could think was _give me the strength to go through with this_ and _please forgive me please forgive me please forgive me._

 

“Amen,” said Luther a few moments later.

 

“Amen,” echoed Maria and Nicky.

 

Maria took a sip of wine before she uncovered the pasta.  “Darling, before I forget, the Jessups wanted to know what they could bring to the potluck this Sunday.”

 

Luther gave an answer, but Nicky had already tuned out. Church talk was only going elevate his nerves. He let his mother serve him pasta and salad and didn’t forget to thank her, but he was miles away from all this.

 

He was thinking about the first time he could remember having a crush on a boy. It was in kindergarten and his name was Brett Hammond. Nicky had forgotten what he looked like, only that he had short brown hair and a friendly smile. Brett had sat across from Nicky on the first day of school and offered to share his sixty-four-pack of crayons. Nicky accepted. That day they filled up two whole coloring books and took the papers home to their parents; Nicky’s mother had hung every one of them on the fridge. The next day Brett had a twenty-four-pack of colored pencils, and they colored until naptime. When they woke up they played house with some of their other classmates. Brett played the daddy and Nicky played the other daddy. It wasn’t long until little Nicky realized he had a crush on his new best friend, and it didn’t go away until Brett moved in second grade.

 

Those were the days. Nicky hadn’t even known what homosexuality was back then, hadn’t known what _he_ was back then. He hadn’t known that it was a sin and an anathema in the eyes of their God. He hadn’t known that ten years later he’d be desperately steeling himself for what would surely be the most mentally traumatizing conversation he’d ever have with his parents.

 

Nicky was telling them tonight.

 

After all the fear, all the childhood crushes he never told his friends about, all the sick drops in his stomach when _it_ was brought up and condemned as sin during the sermon, all the times he’d been told it was wrong wrong wrong, he was going to tell them. It was a bad idea. Nicky knew it was a bad idea. Nicky wasn’t telling them that he’d broken a vase or cheated on a test or dented the car with his Exy racquet. This was something far worse, something that his father looked upon with revulsion and his mother with shame. At first, Nicky had tried to stay hopeful that maybe they’d come to accept him, or at least respect him. Deep down Nicky knew that would never happen.

 

Nicky had never told _anyone_ , let alone his parents. His friends at school were the “Church freaks,” the ultra-religious kids that Nicky was half-forced to fall in with because he either went to Church with them or he knew someone who went to Church with them. They were all as devoutly Christian as Nicky’s parents, which at least gave him an excuse not to talk about girls since most of them had taken purity vows. He’d never told any of them his secret, of course, because then he’d have no parents _and_ no friends. He didn’t trust the guidance counsellors or any of his teachers, which left his parents. He couldn’t keep something this important from the two people who raised him. He couldn’t keep something this important, period. This was a secret that had been poisoning him from the inside out for ten years.

 

Telling his parents was a bad idea, but Nicky was going to do it anyway.

 

“Nicholas,” his mother said suddenly, snapping Nicky out of his own head with a little jolt. “Is something bothering you?”

 

“No, no,” Nicky lied. His voice sounded false to his own ears, too cheerful. “I’m great. Just a bit tired. I think I’m coming down with something.”

 

_Coming down or coming out?_

 

Maria didn’t look convinced. She eyed him a bit longer, then said, “Well alright. Take something before bed and see how you feel in the morning.”

 

 _I’m sure I’ll feel_ great _in the morning, Mom,_ Nicky thought miserably. _Who knows where I’ll wake up after you guys kick me out?_

  


***

  


As soon as he was relieved of dish duty, Nicky nearly tripped up the stairs in a race to his bedroom. The water and three bites of salad he’d eaten for dinner felt like they were due to make a reappearance any second now. He threw open his bathroom door, strode across the tiled floor, and let his forehead drop against the mirror. It felt cool and steady and reassuring against his racing pulse and churning stomach.

 

He stayed like that a few moments longer, then pushed up off the counter and looked himself in the mirror. The expression on his face surprised him. Inside, he felt like he was falling apart at the seams, but his face remained strong. At the very least, it was the front he needed. He could do this.

 

Nicky had never had a panic attack in his life, but as soon as he started down the stairs, he felt that _this_ surely must be one. His chest felt like an iron fist was closing in around it. His breaths came in short, fleeting bursts. His palms were sweating and his stomach was doing somersaults.

 

What if they really did kick him out? They loved their son but they hated sin. Perhaps they hated sin more than they loved their son. What if this really was it? He had no one to go to. His friends would never let him stay in their houses without an explanation that he couldn’t give them. He had no idea how to get in contact with his mother’s family in Mexico. His father’s parents were just as religious as their son. Aunt Tilda was all the way the hell out in California and the last time Nicky saw Aaron was five years ago. What if his parents never forgave him for this? What if-

 

 _Enough,_ Nicky thought. He locked up his thoughts and descended the remaining stairs. It felt like walking to his death.

 

His mother, who was finishing her wine and browsing for a movie with Luther, looked up as Nicky walked into the living room. Maria must have seen something on her son’s face, because she immediately leapt up and put the back of her hand to Nicky’s forehead. Her touch was affectionate and feather-light. Nicky’s throat burned.

 

“ _¿Qué te pasa, mi amor?_ ” Maria asked, voice hushed. “You look pale.”

 

Nicky’s exhale was easier than his inhale. “ _No estoy enfermo,_ ” he told Maria. Luther’s attention was drawn by the Spanish his wife and son were using, so Nicky repeated himself in English. “I’m not sick. But I have to tell you something.”

 

Maria tilted her head. There was something new in her expression; Nicky didn’t know what. Did she know? It was plausible. He was no longer a child.

 

Nicky gestured vaguely to the couch, hoping Maria would know what that meant. He didn’t yet trust his stomach to handle an open mouth. Maria, eyebrows knitted, sat beside her husband and flipped off the television. She never took her eyes off her son.

 

 _I’m sorry, Mom,_ he thought. _You’re going to hate me._

 

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of them. Half his stomach felt like it was crawling up his throat and the other half felt like it was beneath the floorboards. He laced his fingers together and squeezed. He was not backing out of this, not tonight. He was done hiding.

 

He didn’t realize he had been staring at his lap until his father cleared his throat. Maria and Luther were sitting side-by-side, backs immaculately straight and faces innocently curious. The only difference was Maria’s expression was tinged with concern where Luther’s was tinged with impatience.

 

This would have to do.

 

Nicky forced a breath into his lungs. He let it out. He glaced at his lap once more, looked up, and began, “The Bible teaches acceptance, right? That since God forgives people for their sins, we should too?”

 

“Of course it does,” Luther jumped in. “God welcomes those who repent back into his arms.”

 

“Repent,” Nicky said, so soft it was almost a whisper. “But what if the sin is something a person _can’t_ repent for? What if they tried as hard as they could to forget, but they just couldn’t?”

 

“One can always repent for sin,” Luther frowned, as if Nicky was being ridiculous. “As long as they are willing take God back into their heart, they can repent. There is always a way to turn back to God.”

 

Nicky couldn’t do this. His father did not mean it was possible to love someone despite their sins. He meant it would only be possible to a love a person after they repented for their sins. And this was not something Nicky could just _repent._

 

“Nicholas,” Maria said. Nicky looked up. “Is this about one of your friends? Has one of your friends sinned?”

 

“Um,” Nicky said. His throat closed up.

 

Maria went on, eyebrows drawing up into shock as she interpreted Nicky’s lack of an answer. “Is one of your friends... a homosexual?”

 

Nicky’s heart gave a sick lurch. “No.”

 

“Maria!” said Luther, startled. Nicky had long since learned that the term “homosexual” was not an utterable phrase under his father’s regime.

 

Nicky clenched his teeth. He breathed in, he breathed in, he breathed out.

 

“Oh, Luther, you know how it is with this generation,” said Maria. “Nicholas’s Church friends are model citizens; the same cannot be said for the rest of them. I knew we should not have sent Nicholas to that school. You see what it is exposing him-”

 

“I’m gay,” said Nicky.

 

Everything stopped.

 

Once, when Nicky was about six, the grandfather clock in the dining room broke. Two men had come into the house and shifted it onto a cart. Nicky hadn’t known that they were only taking it to an horologist to have a look at. He’d thought that was the end of the clock, that the men were taking it away forever. He’d just hidden behind his mother’s skirt and watched the men wheel it away. Without the clock’s steady ticking to break up the silence, the five days that followed were the quietest Nicky had ever experienced in the Hemmick household.

 

The silence that choked Nicky now wasn’t anything like the silence that had followed after the men carted the clock away. It was as if the two men had instead smashed the clock into pieces and left the shattered remains to die on the wood floor.

 

Luther’s eyes bore into Nicky’s. When he spoke, his voice was terrible. “What did you just say?”

 

Nicky’s jaw tightened. He breathed. “I said I’m gay.”

 

“No, you are not.” This was Maria. Her whisper was so quiet Nicky was surprised he’d even heard her. Perhaps it was because he cared far more about his mother’s reaction than his father’s.

 

This was not the reaction he’d wanted.

 

“Mom, I _am,_ ” insisted Nicky. His voice was becoming clearer by the second, stronger. “I know that’s the last thing you wanted to hear, but I’m sick of lying. And I know you see it as a sin, but-”

 

“Nicholas, we do not _see_ it as a sin,” Luther said, and his words would have been reassuring were it not for the poison in his voice. Nicky winced and forced himself to look at his father’s twisted, unrecognizable expression. “We _know_ it is a sin. _God_ knows it is a sin. Homosexuality is the work of the Devil.”

 

“Dad, please,” Nicky begged, his surety ebbing by the second. “Please try to see it from where I’m standing. I’ve been feeling like this since I was five-”

 

“Nicholas!” breathed Maria, incredulous. “How could you believe something like this?”

 

“Mom,” Nicky said. The back of his throat was on fire. “It’s not something I believe; it’s something I know. Please-”

 

“You do not _know_ anything, Nicholas!” yelled Luther, who had drawn himself up in his seat. Unconsciously, Nicky leaned away. The rage on Luther’s face could melt iron. “‘Thou shalt not lie with mankind,” Luther continued, “as with womankind: it is abomination.’”

 

Leviticus 18:22. Nicky hated that verse.

 

He responded with one of his own. His posture was small and his voice was smaller. “‘Therefore welcome one another as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.’”

 

“That verse cannot apply here,” Luther snapped. Maria’s hand on Luther’s shoulder was the only thing preventing him from standing and inflicting God-knows-what on Nicky. Luther’s posture shrunk infinitesimally but he still looked as if he’d break on a hair-trigger. Nicky remained where he was.

 

“Why not?” said Nicky, or rather, whispered. That was all his throat could manage.

 

“It does not apply to sinners,” Luther said. There was something different in his voice this time. Nicky dragged his gaze up to his father’s face, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized he was never going to make it out of this alive.

 

Luther no longer looked angry. He looked empty. He was staring at Nicky like he’d never seen him before in his life. This was a face that screamed “ _You are not my son.”_

 

A soft sound from Maria startled Nicky away from his father. Belatedly, Nicky realized his mother had been crying this entire time. The hand that was not gripping Luther’s shoulder for dear life was covering her mouth as silent tears poured down her cheeks. She sniffed and uncovered her mouth long enough to say, “Nicholas, we love you and we only want the best for you. But we cannot do that if you’ve chosen a path that the Devil is leading you towards. God does not create men to be homosexual.”

 

“This isn’t a choice,” said Nicky, but even he could hear the despondence in his voice. This was becoming a lost cause. He kept trying anyway. “This isn’t an idea that I woke up with one day. It’s the way I was born-”

 

It was the wrong thing to say. Nicky knew this as soon as he saw Maria’s resulting flinch. She turned hopelessly toward Luther, laid her head on her shoulder, and sobbed, “This is all our fault.”

 

Maria made no attempt to hide her cries now. As she sobbed, Nicky bit his lip so hard he tasted blood and tears welled up in his own eyes. Maria’s sobs were as raw and painful as if they were being ripped from her body.

 

 _I broke her heart,_ thought Nicky, and with that, he rose and left his broken mother and his empty father to contemplate what they had done by having a child in the first place.

  


***

  


Two months later, Nicky would begin his sophomore year at Hiddenview Academy, a sprawling campus nestled in a picturesque valley in Montana. All his teachers and counsellors at Hiddenview agreed on one thing: homosexuality was a disgusting idea from the Devil. Nicky and his other classmates would soon learn over the next nine months that what they felt for other boys was abnormal, illicit, and sinful in the eyes of their God. Some would walk away claiming to be cured, but not Nicky. He knew this was something that could be not fixed.

  
That didn’t mean he wasn’t broken.

 

 

 

 


	2. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't like he knew anything about dating boys, but he knew even less about dating girls.

 

**18 MONTHS LATER**

 

Nicky was lying on the floor of the deck thinking about suicide.

 

Granted, that wasn’t all he was doing. In his right hand he held his Exy racquet. The deck was lined with a waist-high fence, top half screened off by mesh netting that nearly did its job of keeping out bugs in the summer. Nicky was practicing rebounds off of the solid bottom half.

 

As it was winter, Nicky did not have to worry about bugs. Any bug alive in January would be a freak of nature, and even if it was able to get through the mesh, it would still be cooked alive inside one of the heat lamps.

 

Maybe that was what went wrong with Nicky. He was alive when he wasn’t supposed to be and as soon as he got too close to the flame he burned right up.

 

As Nicky listened to the steady _thump, thump_ of the ball bouncing off the fence and into his racquet, he debated getting up to turn off the heat lamp. With any luck, he’d die of hypothermia in the frigid January air. Hypothermia, he’d heard, was not the worst way to die. After a while, you stopped shivering and began feeling warm.

 

But it took hours and hours to freeze to death. Dinner was in twenty minutes. He wouldn’t be dead before his mother found him.

 

Dying was something Nicky had been thinking about a lot lately. It wasn’t as if he’d woken up one day and decided he wanted to die. It began slowly. Faking his happiness had gotten wearying around September. Before his year at Hiddenview Academy, he’d told his Church friends that he was off to live with his uncle for a while in order to experience the Baptist way of life in Montana. They didn’t need to know that he didn’t really have an uncle. When he came back, they’d pressed him for details about his time there. Blatantly lying to them put him under far more pressure than he’d thought it would, not to mention the harsh rigor of junior year. Towards the end of autumn, he began wondering what it would be like to not exist. Then he began to wish he didn’t exist. Then he began to wonder if anyone would miss him. Then he began to wish he’d die. Then he began to wish he had the strength to end his own life. Then he began to realize ending his own life didn’t sound so outlandish anymore.

 

It wasn’t as if he was actively planning on killing himself. He wasn’t looking for ways to get pills. He wasn’t giving away all his worldly possessions. He wasn’t penning together a note. Suicide was just a constant lurking option at the back of his mind. It leeched the life out of him sometimes.

 

His parents didn’t want him the way he was. Every time they told him how proud they were of him, how glad they were that he’d finally come back to God, that he’d _recovered,_ he felt sick. He was still lying to them. He was still sinning. He would still end up in Hell when he died. If they hated the person they thought he no longer was, they couldn’t miss the person he _still_ was.

 

Facing them became harder and harder each day, and it was only a matter of time until their approving grins and loving embraces drove him to insanity.

 

Today was the first day of the new year. Last year had been a nightmare, but this one was already shaping up to be worse.

 

When Nicky was younger, his parents used to make New Year’s resolutions as a family. Nicky couldn’t remember the last time they’d done this, but lying there on the cold floor of the deck, listening to the monotonous sound of his rebounds and thinking about killing himself, Nicky thought he just might make a resolution of his own this year.

 

 _Hm,_ thought Nicky. _This year, I’ll do what I can to survive._

 

Yeah. That was good enough.

 

***

 

At freshman orientation, Nicky and his classmates had been told they were required to take at least two years of a foreign language in order to graduate high school. Nicky decided right off the bat that he didn’t want to take Spanish. He was already half-fluent in the language and did not want to settle for an easy A, and French was too much like Spanish to leave any kind of a lasting impact. Nicky wanted something fresh and new that would challenge him, and who knew? Maybe learning an unfamiliar language would prove advantageous to him someday.

 

So he’d signed up for German I.

 

He was one of less than fifty kids at his school who had elected to take German, so his class had only about twenty people in it freshman year. Nicky had retained everything he was taught in that class and picked up the language so easily that he even brought home of Ms. Till’s books to read in his free time.

 

At Hiddenview, there was no German teacher. Every time Nicky had walked into the foreign language classroom and had easy conversations in rapid Spanish with Mr. Martinez, Nicky missed Ms. Till’s warm smile and appropriately challenging lessons. He had been bored out of his mind during his Spanish lessons at Hiddenview, which weren’t really lessons to him at all.

 

When he had walked into Ms. Till’s classroom his first day back at Northfield, she had leapt up from her desk and pulled him into a hug. Needless to say, German II was the highlight of his day, but he still had to suffer through two periods until then.

 

At the moment, Nicky was suffering through the worst of the day: period two pre-calculus. It had been less than twenty-four hours and Nicky had already broken his New Year’s resolution to do whatever he could to survive. Pre-calculus was slowly taking decades off of his life span. If he wanted to die, all he had to do was keep attending this class until the end of the year.

 

“I don’t think this is right,” said the girl next to Nicky. Nina, her name was. At least he thought it was Nina.

 

Nicky glanced at her paper. He pointed to a spot with the end of his pencil. “You forgot to divide to by two right here.”

 

“Oh!” she said. “Thanks… Nicky, right?”

 

He suppressed the wild urge to laugh. This was the first time he’d spoken to her the whole year; no wonder she sounded so surprised. “Mhm.”

 

He went back to circling his own answers, but he could still feel her looking at him. When he glanced over at her, she looked down.

 

Nicky shook his head and continued working.

 

A few minutes later, Nicky had forgotten she'd even spoken to him until she asked, “What did you get for number seven? I don’t think this looks right, either.”

 

Nicky sighed to himself. As badly as he was tempted to abandon all social cues and either ignore her completely or tell her to ask the teacher if she was having so much trouble, he didn’t. Instead, he turned in his chair, brought his gaze down to the bottom of her paper, and frowned.

 

“No, you got the right answer. But it says to round to two decimal places, not three.”

 

She laughed as if it was the funniest thing she’d heard all day and gave his shoulder a playful shove. He almost shoved her back. Right off her chair.

 

“That was just an excuse to talk to you again, silly!” She was grinning ear-to-ear. “Haven’t you noticed that I was trying to get your attention this whole week?”

 

“Um, no,” said Nicky, nonplussed. “This is the first time we’ve had a conversation the whole _year._ ”

 

She laughed again, loudly, and Nicky looked around to see how many people noticed. No one did; they were all engaged in their work or talking to friends. The overwhelming need to cut and run was slowly creeping up on him.

 

“Oh, come on,” said Nina. “You _had_ to notice when I dropped my pencil right next to your desk. I didn’t pick it up for, like, a minute.”

 

Nicky remembered; it was one of the reasons he’d steered clear of starting any and all conversation with her. She’d stood there looking at it like she’d had no idea how to pick it up. Only after Nicky had spared her a single glance and returned his attention to his work did she bend over to retrieve it. Why would she drop her pencil on purpose?

 

“I noticed," said Nicky. "I was just confused as to, you know. _Why._ ”

 

She laughed again, even louder this time. Nicky swiveled his head around. Still no one was paying attention, a truly impressive feat. This girl’s laugh had to have been reaching a decibel previously unknown to man.

 

Nina gave no sign that she acknowledged his distractedness; she kept on talking as if he’d been giving her his undivided attention this whole time. “You were supposed to pick it up for me. You’re really bad at taking hints, aren’t you?”  

 

He would have frowned at this bit of unexpected brazenness, but when he looked at her, she was smiling. She’d meant it as a joke. He didn’t quite understand the punchline.

 

“Why was I supposed to pick it up?” asked Nicky a bit awkwardly. It dawned on him that perhaps he was supposed to know the answer, but he could not for the life of him figure it out. Was she playing a joke on him?

 

Her grin stretched at Nicky’s response. “So oblivious. I was _flirting_ with you.”

 

He froze. He tried not to let it show on his face, but he was terrified. Isolating himself with the Church freaks meant never having to talk to girls- never having to flirt with them, whether initiatory or responsive- in order to impress his friends. They never talked about their drunken hookups or their sweaty trysts because they’d never _had_ those experiences. Letting himself hide under their conservative influence allowed him to be safe from that. He’d never even tried dating a girl because he knew how that would end: she would try something more than kissing and he’d freak the hell out.

 

But sitting there staring at Nina’s honest, hopeful expression as she twisted a piece of brown hair through her fingertips, he saw an opportunity. He’d told his parents over and over again that he’d healed. Perhaps it was time for Nicky to erase any lingering doubts in their minds, no matter how much of a lie it would have to be.

 

Nicky had long ago accepted the fact that he was destined for Hell. He might as well do all he could, through sin or not, to make his time on Earth as painless as possible for the time being.

 

_I’ll do what I can to survive._

 

Nicky plucked up his courage. He returned Nina’s coquettish grin and asked, “Do you have any plans Saturday night?”

 

***

 

It took Nicky forty-five minutes to realize what he’d done.

 

Ms. Till did not expect her German II students to get any work done after a week-long break. To avoid counterproductivity, she gave Nicky and his classmates a journal prompt asking them to tell her about their holidays (using at least five new vocabulary terms). Nicky scrawled down a lengthy answer in less than ten minutes, tossed his pen aside, and put his head down on his desk.

 

It wasn’t long after until his thoughts drifted back to the conversation with Nina. They’d made plans for pizza and a movie at six that Saturday. The address he was supposed to be picking her up from was penned on a piece of scratch paper for him and folded into his pocket. Rubbing fatigue from his eyes, he sat back in his chair and unfolded the piece of paper in question.

 

It shouldn’t have sent something sick to his stomach as he looked at it, but it did. It should have been an average piece of paper with an address written on it. In glittering magenta ink, bubbly letters above the street name declared “Nina Harrison <3.” In retrospect, this display of her bright demeanor was sweet and feminine, but perhaps that was just the problem. The knowledge that he was taking out a girl who was interested in him, a _girl-_ was petrifying. It wasn’t like he knew anything about dating boys, but he knew even less about dating girls. What was he supposed to say? Where was he supposed to hold? _Was_ he supposed to hold? What were her expectations?

 

Nicky hoped he wouldn’t screw this all up on the first date. If everything went well, his parents would believe unequivocally in his recovery and he’d only have to get through another year and a half until he could run off to college and do as he pleased.

 

As he held the crinkled piece of paper in his hands, the end of that year and a half seemed as far away as the rest of oblivion.  

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello guys, it's ryan here (: i'm going to start making my notes at the end of the chapter instead of the beginning. i hoped you enjoyed this one and i apologize if things are moving a bit slow so far, but i really wanted to take some time to explore nicky's personality and story before he met erik. just so you know, at the end of the next chapter his german teacher will pull him aside and tell him about the study abroad program, so this story will begin to take off quickly from there. hope you're okay with hanging tight until then and let me know if you have any suggestions or other feedback for me!! thanks so much for reading (:
> 
> chapter title taken from "fallout" by catfish and the bottlemen.


	3. Single

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Columbia had nothing to offer him but two prejudiced parents, a false group of friends, and a totalitarian religion, all of which would hate him if they knew what he really was.

When Nicky was five years old, he didn’t understand why other boys kissed girls. He’d thought boys were supposed to kiss  _ boys, _ except for maybe his father. Luther was the exception simply because he was Nicky’s father, and he couldn’t possibly do wrong.

 

As a child, Nicky thought he would never have to kiss a girl. But as he got older and was told that homosexuality was a disgusting idea, a doubt began to grow at the back of his mind. Would he have to marry a girl one day? Could two boys or two girls even  _ get _ married? Yes, his parents expected him to give them grandchildren, but why couldn’t Nicky have a family with another boy?

 

It wasn’t fair that perhaps he’d have to go his whole life without kissing a boy. Boys were so beautiful, their kind eyes and soft hair and radiant smiles. The prospect of kissing a boy felt natural to Nicky. Sure, girls were pretty, but he never felt the same about girls as he did boys. 

 

When Nicky was five years old and didn’t understand other boys kissed girls, he could never envision himself kissing a girl. At sixteen, as he stood at Nina Harrison’s porch,  _ kissing her, _ his heart hurt for the innocent little boy he’d once been.

 

It was his first kiss. It wasn’t as if he’d ever thought kissing a girl would be repulsive, just less instinctual as doing the same with another boy. And it wasn’t repulsive. He just didn’t feel… anything. It was hesitant and careful and tasted like strawberry lip gloss, but for the three heartbeats of its duration, all Nicky heard was his conscience screaming  _ this is wrong this is wrong this is wrong. _

 

When Nina pulled away and looked up at him with wide blue eyes, Nicky physically restrained himself from turning on his heels and running as fast as he could. 

 

“See you on Monday,” she said, a blush high on her cheeks. Objectively, she truly was beautiful. If Nicky had been attracted to girls, maybe he could have fallen for her someday. 

 

She deserved better than this. 

 

“See you on Monday,” echoed Nicky, his entire body numb. 

 

Nicky waited as Nina unlocked the front door. She might have said something or smiled as she closed it, and Nicky might have said something or smiled back, but his mind and body were at a disconnect. The second the door clicked shut, he stumbled back to his car and unlocked it with shaking hands. 

 

He drove as far as the end of Nina’s neighborhood before his stomach gave out. He pulled over, flung the door open, and dry-heaved, street pavement swimming below him in his blurry vision. When nothing came up, it took all the strength left in his body for him to right himself and shut the door. 

 

Nicky’s heart was beating too loud and too fast in his ears, though he could hardly hear it over the panicked ringing in his head. What the  _ hell _ had he just done and why did it feel like being buried six feet under?

 

He couldn’t do this. He had to tell Nina the truth. 

  
  


***

  
  


More accurately, Nicky told Nina  _ a _ truth. Just not the entire truth. 

 

Nicky had learned much about Nina over dinner that Saturday. She had two brothers and a miniature poodle named Halle, her parents were divorced, her favorite color was yellow, and she thought Bush was an abysmal president. She was upbeat and intelligent, but Nicky had no way of knowing how she would react to finding out she’d kissed a gay guy. She could be embarrassed, and embarrassment often brought out the worst in people. What if she decided to process it by spreading it around? There was no way it wouldn’t get back to Nicky’s parents. 

 

So at the last second, Nicky freaked out. 

 

The morning after their date, Nicky had texted Nina asking if they could meet in the school’s library before first period, with the full intention of disclosing the entire truth. But then the realization that Nina could tell  _ everyone _ came crashing down on Nicky’s resolve. Instead, Nicky told her he wasn’t quite ready to date anyone.

 

Which was true. Nicky’s state of mind was far too fragile for him to truly care for another person in the way Nina wanted. 

 

Nina seemed to understand. She hugged him and told him they’d talk more in pre-calc, but Nicky was already considering leaving the school and going out for sushi. The only reason he’d shown up in the first place was the thought of German class in a few hours. 

 

“Dammit,” said Nicky. “Speaking of pre-calc, I completely forgot we had homework.”

 

Nina cracked a grin as she stood and slung her backpack over her right shoulder. “Just bullshit it; it’s what I always do. Feldman usually checks for completion.”

 

“Yeah, keyword  _ usually,” _ said Nicky, reluctantly reaching into his own backpack for his incomplete homework assignment and a pencil. “With my luck, today will be the one time he collects it.”

 

“God, I can’t tell you how many times that’s happened to me,” said Nina. “Anyway, I should go meet my friends. I’m glad we talked about this, though.”

 

“Me too,” said Nicky truthfully. It had been unfair of him to string her along for even as long as he did. “I hope we can still be friends.”

 

“Of course we can,” agreed Nina, smiling brightly. “I’ll see you later, right?”

 

“Right,” said Nicky, and watched Nina walk off. 

 

He refused to let himself think about it until halfway through German class, while Ms. Till was having her students copy notes. Nicky could do this while giving half his attention, a skill he’d honed to perfection during his year at Hiddenview. Instead of fastidiously absorbing every fiber of information written on the chalkboard, Nicky was thinking about Nina. 

 

Nina had been far more understanding than Nicky imagined she would be. But what was going to happen if another girl was interested in him, one who was less understanding and more tenacious in gaining Nicky’s affections? What if there was someone who wouldn’t take “not ready to date” as an answer? He couldn’t keep leading people on like this. And he couldn’t kiss another girl. 

 

He was living lie after lie after lie. His parents told him every day how proud they were of him, and for what? Because they thought he was  _ fixed? _ No. He still went to sleep each night imagining what it would be like to kiss a boy, to hold hands with a boy, and there was no way out of it. It was sickening, how he couldn’t change. A year of group therapy and praying and nausea-inducing medication did nothing to stifle what Nicky felt towards other boys. 

 

He wished it had worked. He couldn’t be gay and Christian, because these things were not mutually inclusive. So long as Nicky still felt like this, God would hate him. He was taught at Hiddenview to surrender to a higher power, and he’d tried. But it seemed these things were out of his control. 

 

Nicky didn’t know how much longer he could hold on, how much longer he could desperately grapple at the shreds of the person he’d once been and piece them back together into something vaguely resembling a whole human being. All he could do was keep himself together until May. Then he could shut down for the summer and steel himself to survive one more year of this. 

 

_ One more year of this. _

 

Yeah, if he didn’t kill himself first.

 

“Nicky,” he heard, and he snapped up from the desk. He hadn’t even realized he’d put his head between his arms and closed his eyes. 

 

Ms. Till was looking at him, a tinge of concern visible in the crease between her light eyebrows. The rest of the students were completing an assignment, tittering away half in German and half in English. 

 

Nicky could see a thick stack of the papers piled on the empty desk near the front of the classroom. He swung from his seat and was reaching for one of his own to bring back when Ms. Till repeated his name. He looked up at her, and she motioned for him to come closer. Skirting around the side of the desk, he took up a seat Ms. Till offered beside her own. 

 

“How are you, darling?” asked Ms. Till, shifting in her chair to face him. “You’ve been falling asleep in class lately. I just want to make sure everything’s okay.”

 

“Oh, I’m fine,” said Nicky automatically. This lying thing was becoming second nature to him. At this rate, he could kill a man and pass the polygraph. 

 

“Hm,” said Ms. Till. Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t pass the polygraph. “You’re sure you don’t want to arrange a meeting with your guidance counselor, or-”

 

“No!” answered Nicky, louder than he’d meant to. The crease between Ms. Till’s eyebrows deepened. “I mean, uh, no. No, I’m fine. Really.”

 

Ms. Till was silent for a few beats, studying Nicky with warm brown eyes. Though Nicky was petrified she’d see the truth right through his poker face, Nicky couldn’t help but appreciate his kind-hearted German teacher. In over a year, not one person with the exception of Ms. Till had sensed something was wrong with Nicky. He didn’t quite know how old she was, perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five, but he’d always thought she was wise beyond her years. 

 

Suddenly, the prospect of telling Ms. Till the truth he couldn’t tell Nina, couldn’t tell his friends, couldn’t even tell his  _ parents, _ did not seem so terrifying. Maybe Ms. Till would know what to do.

 

“How’s that book you picked last week?” asked Ms. Till. 

 

The truth would have to wait. 

 

“It’s great,” smiled Nicky. “Stuttgart has an interesting history. I just got the part about Nazi occupation.”

 

“Would you ever like to live in Stuttgart?” she asked.

 

“Well, not during Nazi occupation,” said Nicky. “I’m not exactly Aryan.”

 

Ms. Till laughed, high and silvery. “No, silly, I’m talking about now. Next year. I found something I thought you might be interested in.”

 

She reached for a paper tucked between stacks of worksheets and handed it to Nicky. It was a glossy, bright pamphlet titled “Study Abroad in Stuttgart!” above a photograph of a castle Nicky had seen in his book. Nicky opened it cautiously and skimmed through the first page. A handful of words in particular jumped out at him:  _ entire academic year, experience, transformation, diverse perspective, life-changing. _

 

Whoa. 

 

Nicky’s heart skipped a beat. “So, what exactly is it? I would live in Germany for a year?”

 

“Not quite a year,” said Ms. Till, misinterpreting Nicky’s question. If he could live an ocean away from everything, he wanted to stay as long as he possibly could. “It would only be nine months. You can read more about it in the pamphlet, but the general concept would be to stay with a host family in Stuttgart during the year while attending a German high school.”

 

“Oh. So it would count as credit toward my senior year?” asked Nicky hopefully. If the program was what it sounded like, maybe Nicky would only have to last until this May instead of next May, when he graduated. 

 

“Exactly,” said Ms. Till. “I’ll print out the application packet, and all you have to do is get your parents to sign off on it. I’ll find a host family, handle admissions… everything you need.”

 

Ice formed in the pit of his stomach at the mention of his parents. Nicky doubted they would let him go, especially his mother. Maria had hardly been able to deal with Nicky living in Montana, let alone on the other side of the Atlantic. The program had started to sound so wonderful, living in Germany for nearly a year, away from the weight of reality that threatened to bury Nicky with every step. What if his parents killed the chance before it began?

 

“I know it would expensive,” said Ms. Till, “but I think you need a fresh start for a little bit. A change in scenery.”

 

Nicky hadn’t even thought about the potential monetary boundary, but before he could, he found his gaze sliding out the classroom windows. This late in the winter, Columbia was shriveling up. The deadened grass, crunchy and wind-burned, was coated in a thick layer of brown leaves. The vegetation outside the school looked as if the life had been drawn from it. And it was raining today, distorting the panes of glass with its freezing droplets. 

 

Columbia had nothing to offer him but two prejudiced parents, a false group of friends, and a totalitarian religion, all of which would hate him if they knew what he really was. 

 

“I’m in,” said Nicky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone!! i am so so sorry i haven't posted in eons. i've just been insanely busy with school and whatnot, but i decided i wanted to get back into writing this since i've had writer's block for a while and this story has potential for where it could go. i hope my writer's block isn't overtly evident in this chapter, which is super boring and not so well written, i'll admit that. but i really just needed to tie up a couple loose ends in columbia before nicky jets across the atlantic. the story will start getting much more interesting and fast-paced from here, i promise!! as always, thanks for reading and let me know if you have any comments, questions, or suggestions. love you all so very much <3
> 
> chapter title taken from "single" by the neighbourhood.


	4. Capsize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A few months ago, I found out that I have a brother,” said Aaron.

On May twenty-ninth, the last day of his disastrous junior year, Nicky walked into the house to four more people than were usually present at three o’clock in the day. 

 

Maria Hemmick worked three times a week as a recruiter for a software company. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, she arrived back at the house close to five. Luther was at the church each day, back before six o’clock for dinner. It rare for either of them to be home before Nicky got back from school, and rarer still for both to be home simultaneously before six. 

 

So one could imagine Nicky’s surprise when not one, not two, but three cars were parked at the house as Nicky pulled up to it that afternoon, leaving him an astonishingly miniscule amount of space in which to squeeze his own car into the driveway. Whoever owned his unfamiliar grey Volvo needed to learn how to park.

 

After exiting the car, Nicky made a stop at the mailbox. He never used to look through the mail before bringing it inside, as usually all that was delivered to the Hemmick household were bills, tax information, and Christian magazine subscriptions, none of which held Nicky’s slightest interest. But since March, when Ms. Till had obtained contact information from Nicky’s host family and encouraged him to write letters, Nicky had checked the mail each day. It would have been far easier if the computer hadn’t broken and was yet to be fixed, as Nicky was sure the Klose siblings, Erik and Celina, had email accounts. 

 

The letters were the highlight of Nicky’s week, two separate pages in a single envelope. Just through writing, Nicky could tell that Erik, who was eighteen, and Celina, who was thirteen, had comically different personalities. Erik was going into his first year at a local university and seemed mild, intelligent, and easy-going. Celina was brutally funny and scarcely filtered her thoughts about the people and events in her life. Nicky had even read a few letters sent by his host parents, Anette and Robert, to Nicky’s own parents. The Klose family seemed wonderful. The only thought saving Nicky from insanity was August the third, inching ever closer with each breath he took. 

 

Nicky flipped through the mail until he found what he was looking for: a white envelope addressed to him in Erik’s now-familiar handwriting, always in blue ink. Nicky had asked Erik once why he never wrote in black ink, and Erik had replied that he found black ink too boring. In the next envelope Nicky had used, he’d sent a purple pen alongside his letters. Now, everything Erik wrote to Nicky, excluding the address, was written in purple. 

 

Nicky tucked the letter into his waistband and entered the house.

 

He followed the sounds of friendly chatter into the kitchen, where his mother stood chopping vegetables at the marble countertop. His father sat facing the doorway, across from two people whose backs were to Nicky. One was a woman with pale brown hair, the other a pint-sized boy with lighter blond hair. 

 

_ Hang on just a hot second,  _ thought Nicky.  _ Is that who I think it is? _

 

Luther looked up as Nicky entered the room, drawing the attention of Tilda and Aaron Minyard. Nicky hadn’t seen them in… what, six, seven years? It wasn’t as if the Hemmicks could just fly out to California every other weekend, and Luther had never been overwhelmingly close with his sister, as Tilda was no longer religious. Nicky remembered hearing about it as a child, how Tilda had named her son Aaron Michael after Biblical figures but forever ceased her church attendance one month after Aaron was born. Nicky gathered this had always been a source of tension between Luther and Tilda. 

 

“Nicky!” said Tilda, leaping up from her seat and folding Nicky into a hug. This was strange. Nicky certainly did not remember Tilda ever having been an affectionate person, yet here she was, releasing him from her arms. Nicky was struck by how thin she’d gotten, by her greying roots and the wrinkles deepening across her forehead. She looked as if she’d been under stress, and worse, she looked… well, drunk. Not enough for it to be unambiguous, but enough that Nicky’s attention held on the vague stumble in her walk and her loose, easy smile. 

 

“Hi, Aunt Tilda,” he said. Tilda patted Nicky on the cheek and sat back down beside her son, who looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else than the Hemmicks’ kitchen. Nicky knew the feeling. 

 

Aaron had grown taller since the last time Nicky had seen him, but not by much. He was three-and-a-half years younger than Nicky and the tiniest boy of thirteen Nicky had ever seen. True, he’d begun to grow into himself, but he couldn’t have been more than four-foot-ten. 

 

“Hey, Aaron,” said Nicky. He’d seen his cousin perhaps five times in his life, but they’d always been fairly compatible. 

 

“Hi,” said Aaron. 

 

That was as close to  _ compatible _ one could get when it came to Aaron Minyard.

 

Nicky pulled up a chair beside his father. Maria set down a plate of celery, carrots, and ranch dressing, plus five glasses of ice atop lacquered drink coasters. She poured soda for herself and the four others before settling herself at the head of the table. 

 

“So, what’s up?” asked Nicky, meaning  _ Why the hell are they here _ and  _ Please tell me you guys aren’t going to make me sleep on the couch so Aaron can have my room, because the couch sucks. _

 

“Well, Aaron and your aunt Tilda have moved to Columbia,” said Maria. 

 

Nicky stifled a laugh. He knew when his mother was masking blatant irritation, and now was one of those times. Maria’s smile was too tight, ending below her eyes, and Nicky could hear it in her voice beneath the joviality. It was so subtle Nicky doubted even Luther had caught it.

 

“Oh, that’s great,” said Nicky, though he wasn’t sure if he meant it. “Why?”

 

It was the wrong question to ask, and the reaction was instantaneous. Tilda choked quietly on a sip of Coke and put the glass down, coughing in her mouth. She avoided the eyes of everyone in the room. Aaron shifted in his seat, glancing up nervously at his mother as if he was afraid Tilda noticed he was reacting. Nicky’s parents looked at each other, locked in a silent battle. Nicky couldn’t see his father’s face, but his mother’s was stern. Something like  _ We’ll talk about this later. _

 

Okay, so  _ not _ the right topic to press. It seemed he’d been left out of a secret everyone else was in on. Nicky bit into a carrot stick and let his mother change the subject. 

 

“So, Tilda, how do you and Aaron like the new house?” asked Maria. Focusing on the present, not the past or the future. For all her faults, Maria knew how to handle a situation. 

 

“It’s wonderful,” smiled Tilda, still visibly shaken up but grateful for the change in subject. 

 

Nicky let himself tune out as his parents and aunt made small talk about the house, the neighborhood, even the weather. The  _ weather. _ What kind of pertinent secret could the Minyards and Nicky’s parents possibly be hiding if it necessitated such empty conversation?

 

The topic soon rolled around to Nicky’s birthday the week before, and Nicky willed himself to pay attention. Nothing ground-breaking had happened on the twenty-third, no apocalyptic rave or life-changing experience. Nicky was saving that for Germany. He’d had a nice, quiet party in his basement with a couple church friends and Nina, who he’d become close with. 

 

“That reminds me!” said Tilda suddenly, reaching for her purse, which was slung on the back of Aaron’s chair. “I know it’s a week late, but I promise we didn’t forget.”

 

Tilda handed Nicky a thin rectangular package wrapped in striped paper. A book, or a DVD, or a video game. Something in Aaron’s vaguely self-satisfied expression told Nicky it was the latter. 

 

“Thank you. That’s so nice,” said Nicky. “Should I open it?”

 

“Yes,” said Aaron quickly. “I picked it out.”

 

Nicky turned it over and peeled back the paper. A video game, as predicted. Grand Theft Auto IV. 

 

“Sweet,” said Nicky, nodding at Aaron in appreciation. 

 

“Nicholas,” said Luther, eyes on his sister. “Why don’t you show Aaron the console you got for your birthday?”

 

It would sound like a suggestion to the untrained ears of Aaron and Tilda, but under its skin, it was an order. Nicky was half-tempted to refuse, to stay in the kitchen and demand to know what was going on. What weren’t they telling him? Why was Luther looking at his sister like he was afraid she’d break any second?

 

“Come on, Aaron,” said Nicky, rising from his chair and leading Aaron from the room. 

 

Aaron gave no implication as to what happened in the kitchen while Nicky set up the game. He just sat against the end of Nicky’s bed, making smalltalk and fiddling absentmindedly with a PlayStation controller. While the two cousins caught up, Nicky learned that Aaron would be attending his same high school next school year, though Nicky wouldn’t be there. 

 

“Why not?” asked Aaron, shifting over to give Nicky a spot. Nicky sat down next to Aaron and pressed  _ Start. _

 

“I’m studying in Germany next year,” said Nicky. “I won’t be back until graduation.”

 

“Whoa, really?” said Aaron, sounding mildly interested as he shot at a man onscreen and stole his car. “I didn’t know you spoke German.”

 

“Well, I’ve only been taking it in school for a couple years, but my teacher’s tutoring me outside class,” Nicky explained. Three times a week after school, Nicky had been staying in Ms. Till’s classroom for snacks and one-on-one German lessons. She assigned him extra worksheets and journal entries, had him turn in audio recordings each Friday, brought him difficult books to read, and banned English during the entire month of May. The result had left Nicky with a rough fluency in German, though complete immersion would still take a few weeks to get used to overseas. 

 

“And your parents are cool with it?” said Aaron, eyes flickering over to Nicky in dubiety. 

 

“Believe me,” said Nicky, “I totally didn’t think they’d let me at first. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance and I just got lucky.”

 

The game paused, and it wasn’t Nicky. Aaron was looking at him with an expression Nicky had never seen before on the face of his cousin. It was difficult to decipher, a look of sorrow and distress and… 

 

_ Guilt? _

 

“Close the door,” said Aaron suddenly. “I should tell you something.”

 

Nicky complied and forewent his controller in the process, sitting back down in front of Aaron. Aaron’s eyes were darting around the room, as if contemplating exactly what to do, what to say. Something was terribly wrong. 

 

Nicky cleared his throat awkwardly. “You don’t have to-”

 

“No, no,” said Aaron, “I think you should know. Listen, I don’t know why your parents haven’t told you yet, but… there’s been some stuff happening.”

 

There was a pause. Aaron was starting to scare him, that strange expression and tense pitch to his voice. Whatever Aaron was about to tell him must have been what caused the Minyards to move to Columbia, and why everyone at the table had reacted so oddly to Nicky’s simple question. 

 

“Okay, stuff like what, exactly?” asked Nicky.

 

“A few months ago, I found out that I have a brother,” said Aaron. 

 

“Whoa,” said Nicky. “What, is he older? I can’t remember your mom being pregnant after she had you.”

 

“She wasn’t,” Aaron confirmed. “He’s my twin.”

 

There was something new in Aaron’s voice that alarmed Nicky above all else: pain. Not only did Aaron have a newfound brother, but a newfound  _ twin _ brother? 

 

“It was a coincidence, really, that it happened,” said Aaron. “Someone thought I was him at a Raiders game. Easy mistake to make. I mean, supposedly we’re identical. Anyway, Mom gave the guy our phone number and she gets a call from my brother’s foster mom. And obviously I wasn’t supposed to, but I was curious, so I listened in on the other phone. Mom told the fosters that she didn’t want anything to do with my brother.”

 

“Did she say why?” asked Nicky. 

 

“Sure did,” said Aaron, mouth twisting rancorously. “She didn’t want either of us at first, so she tried to give us both up the the system. Then she regretted it. So she went back and took  _ one  _ of us, and it just happened to be me and not him.”

 

Nicky’s own words rang back and forth in his swimming head:  _ I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance and I just got lucky. _

 

In the deafening silence, Aaron clutched his arms around himself and stared down at the white carpet. Nicky didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t even sure why Aaron was choosing to disclose the details of what seemed to be quite a personal situation. Nicky was hardly capable of thinking about anything besides Germany and his own death, and here was a cousin and an aunt he hadn’t seen in years, moved to Columbia with this bombshell. If they were trying to run away from the past, it wasn’t going to work. 

 

Nicky couldn’t imagine how Aaron must have felt finding out he had a twin whom his mother had abandoned to the system. And with that, the tacit counterpart: how had Aaron felt realizing he and his brother could have been in each other’s places by way of their mother’s hair-trigger decision?

 

“Where is he now?” asked Nicky tentatively. 

 

“Andrew’s in juvie,” said Aaron. Something passed over his face, and Nicky knew the conversation was closing. Aaron was shutting down. Perhaps the only reason he’d opened up in the first place was the need to tell someone before he collapsed from the weight of it, a feeling Nicky knew all too well. “We should probably stop talking about this now, ‘cause I think Mom wants to leave soon. Can we keep playing?”

 

_ Andrew. _ So that’s why Tilda stopped going to church. 

 

“Yeah, let’s keep going,” said Nicky, taking up a controller and the spot next to Aaron. He resumed their game and pretended not to notice as Aaron turned away to wipe his eyes. 

  
  


***

  
  


_ 21/5/09 _

  
  


_ Dear Nicky,  _

 

_ It’s Celina again, in case you don’t already recognize the handwriting. It’s way better than my brother’s. He’s annoying about it, because he thinks he has such great handwriting for a boy. I still think it looks sloppy.  _

 

_ Anyway, you’re not going to believe what Jana did today. I told you how she’s batshit crazy and thinks I’m trying to steal her boyfriend, right? Well, if it’s even possible, she got crazier. Not kidding. Today at lunch she yelled at me in front of everyone so I got up and punched her. I got suspended from school for a few days, plus my parents grounded me, but I don’t even care. She’s crazy and her boyfriend looks like a Bieber wannabe.  _

 

_ I don’t have much more time to write this, because Erik’s leaving in a few minutes to drop the envelope off at the post office and he says if my letter isn’t in it then it’s going to have to wait until next time. He’s crazy as well, only less like Jana and more like an eighteen-year-old who’s actually forty-five inside.  _

 

_ I’m excited for you to come live with us! We can talk shit every day, face-to-face. It’s going to be awesome. Write back soon! _

 

_ From,  _

 

_ Celina _

 

_ P.S.: Happy birthday! _

  
  


***

  
  


_ 19/5/09 _

 

_ Dear Nicky, _

 

_ Happy (late, by the time you read this) birthday! It’s a shame you can’t celebrate in Germany this year, since you’d be legal to go out and drink, but hopefully your graduation falls after your birthday next year. Eighteen is a fun age to be in Germany. That’s the drinking age for hard liquor, which I took full advantage of the night of my own eighteenth birthday. I woke up in a stranger’s apartment next to a teacup pig. I don’t even know if teacup pigs are legal to own as pets here. But anyway, I promise I won’t let you wake up next to a teacup pig when you turn eighteen. _

 

_ Did you do anything fun for your birthday? Celina told me we should bake a cake and send it to you, but I told her that’s unsanitary. She wrote the words  _ “BAKE A CAKE” _ (yes, in caps) on her calender under the second of August. Expect one upon your arrival.  _

 

_ There isn’t much going on around here besides Dad getting a promotion, which was exciting. Of course the first thing Celina asked was if she could get a hot tub for her room. I just finished moving all of my things to the basement, which kills two birds with one stone since you need a place to sleep for the year and I need a place to host all my crazy university parties. Just kidding. Maybe.  _

 

_ My friends are all looking forward to meeting you, even Stefan, who’s always grumpy. You’ll like him, though. My friends are loads of fun, and I’m excited to introduce you to them.  _

 

_ My family and I have been starting to think of places to take you while you’re here. If you have time, look up Neuschwanstein Castle, which my mother thought you’d like. Dad suggested Frankfurt. My own first suggestion was Oktoberfest, but my mother said absolutely not. So we can sneak out and go anyway, if you’d like.  _

 

_ Alright, well, that’s all for now. Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see or do in Germany so we can add it to the list. Can you believe you’ll be here in only a few months? Can’t wait! _

 

_ From,  _

 

_ Erik _

 

_ P.S.: I sent a picture of the four of us inside the envelope, so you’ll know what we look like when we come to pick you up from Arrivals. Please excuse Celina’s resting-bitch-face. She doesn’t like being photographed.  _

  
  


***

  
  


The picture was tucked behind Erik’s letter, a scene of the four Kloses standing on the wide steps of a building, maybe a museum. Nicky looked first at Celina to confirm Erik’s claim. Sure enough, there was a skinny girl with light brown hair standing beside her mother, a death glare on her face. Nicky smiled to himself. 

 

Celina resembled her father, who was a tall man with glasses and a friendly grin. Anette was far shorter than her husband and son, blonde hair cut stylishly above her slight shoulders. 

 

When Nicky laid eyes for the first time on Erik Klose, his face went slack and heat crawled up the back of his neck. He held the picture closer to the light to make sure he’d seen correctly, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized he had. Erik was more than just attractive. He was beautiful. Almost as tall as Robert, Erik had strong shoulders, honey-blond hair, and perfect bone structure, bright smile lighting up his face. 

 

_ You’re an abomination, Nicholas, _ thought Nicky. 

  
The voice sounded like his father’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last development chapter before nicky goes to germany!! i just figured i had to address the whole aaron/andrew situation because it's eventually going to come up again. i also wanted to "introduce" the klose siblings (disclaimer: the books didn't say if erik has any siblings but i like the idea of a sassy little sister) before nicky meets them for the first time face-to-face. so i hope you liked it, and i hope you noticed that our little nicky seems just a bit happier. trust me, germany will turn his life around. love you all so very much and let me know if you have any questions/suggestions!!
> 
> chapter title taken from "capsize" by frenship.


	5. Something Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If this was how the year would pan out, Nicky was in for absolute hell.

The decision to leave his cross necklace in America was one Nicky had considered carefully over the course of several months. Its meaning, though significant, did not house the best of memories. It had been given to Nicky by his father the evening before Luther had shipped his only child off to conversion therapy.

 

Nicky was at a loss as to why Luther had chosen to give him the necklace. After Nicky had tried coming out to his parents, Luther had barely spared two words for his son before Nicky’s stay at Hiddenview. But late that sleepless night, the night before Nicky was made to be broken forever, Luther had come into Nicky’s room and presented him with the golden cross. Perhaps Luther had thought it would lead his son back to God, or that it would ward off whichever demon had been tearing at Nicky’s mind to make him believe he was gay. No matter the reason, Nicky had been obediently wearing the necklace ever since he’d received it.

 

As time dragged on, Nicky began to understand that he did not deserve to wear a piece of jewelry as pure as his cross necklace, yet he kept it around his neck. Maybe if he wore it, God would love him or take away Nicky’s pain. Sometimes, though, the gold chain that laid against Nicky’s throat felt as if it were tightening by the minute.

 

Until the moment Nicky had left for the airport, he’d sat on his bed and stared down at the necklace piled in his hand. He’d had a choice to make, and very little time in which to make it. Then Nicky’s mother had called him from the living room, so Nicky had stood up, opened his bottommost desk drawer, and tucked the necklace underneath a stack of old school papers. 

 

But now, boarding the airplane that was to take him across the Atlantic Ocean, Nicky wondered if leaving it behind had been a terrible mistake. 

 

It was true that Nicky did not deserve to wear that necklace, though during times of stress, it had always acted as a safety net. Nicky often found himself reaching for the pendant and twirling it between his fingers, twisting it around and around until his worries ebbed away. As he weaved through the aisles in search of seat 32A, the fingers of his right hand instinctively leapt for his throat before he could remember what he’d done with his necklace. When he felt nothing underneath his t-shirt, cold anxiety dropped into his stomach. There was nothing to keep him in control now. 

 

Soon, Nicky managed to locate his seat. The bulk of his luggage had been shipped to the Kloses’ house the week before, leaving Nicky with a backpack occupied by spare clothes and a book for the plane ride. Nicky settled into the chair, which was closest to the window, in order to let others place their carry-on items into the overhead compartments. 

 

At that moment, the thought began at the back of his mind, the one he’d been putting off for weeks, months, an eternity. According to the clock on his cell phone, the flight was scheduled to take off in just over twenty minutes. This was not in the slightest an opportune time to let his mind run away. He instead unzipped his backpack to fish out his book,  _ Harry Potter und der Gefangene von Askaban, _ opened it at the bookmark, and began reading. 

 

But- sooner than Nicky would have liked- the time came for takeoff. The pilot made his announcements, first in English and then in German. The flight attendants demonstrated seatbelt and emergency procedures. Sounds of the belts clicking in place resounded through the cabin. Nicky stowed his backpack under the seat in front of him and buckled his own seatbelt as attendants milled about, checking for rule-benders. 

 

The plane rumbled beneath him, and the pilot began the path down the runway. 

 

Something quite strange occurred as the plane began to pick up speed. Nicky had been almost certain that this would be the most terrifying part of the plane ride, but instead of panicking, Nicky was exhilarated. He watched Columbia race past the uncovered window to his left, a blur of bright lights and buildings casting stately shadows against the night sky. 

 

He was finally leaving his parents, leaving his church. He was leaving everything and everyone who had ever made him feel unsafe in his own skin. And for the first time in years, Nicky was relieved. 

 

When the plane’s wheels left the ground, however, the glorious flood of satisfaction flushed away into anxiety, and there was the thought again. There was no putting it off this time. Nicky had nowhere left to run from his own mind, no choice but to let the thought materialize into something vindictive and cold: 

 

Would Germany change anything?

 

It was Nicky’s worst nightmare, spending a year overseas and having it change nothing. What if he came back and still hated himself to his very core, or still felt like an abomination and a failure? What if his parents still detested the person they thought Nicky no longer was? There was only so much Nicky could take, and perhaps he would not be able to bear it if he returned to America with his same issues still intact. 

 

Yes, he was scared, but underneath it was a thrum of an emotion he had not felt since time immemorial: hope. All he could do was hope that this experience would help him heal. He  _ had _ to get better. 

 

Nicky’s thoughts were caught up in a sudden yawn. The night before, he’d gotten around two hours of sleep due to both nerves and eager anticipation. After months of preparation- tutoring, letter-writing, shopping, packing, obtaining a passport- it was finally happening. 

 

Allowing an almost imperceptible smile to grow across his features, Nicky returned the bookmark to the page he’d been reading, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes. 

  
  


***

  
  


When he opened them again, it was daylight. It was mildly disorienting, as Nicky’s flight had taken off from South Carolina at half past ten the following evening. A quick look at his watch indicated that it was just after seven in the morning- but no, that couldn’t possibly be accurate. A quick glance outside the window told him that the sun was far higher in the sky than just after sunrise. 

 

_ Time zones _ , Nicky reminded himself. He’d have to adjust his watch accordingly as soon as he found an accurate clock. 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” came the announcement overhead by the pilot. “We will start our descent momentarily. Please make sure your seat backs and tray tables…”

 

Nicky tuned out the rest of the safety instructions in favor of pressing his forehead against the window. The plane skimmed the tops of the wispy clouds and seemed to be growing lower and lower by the second, blocking his view for a moment as they passed through the thick mist. When they emerged, his eyes widened. 

 

The plane was flying high above the German countryside. They were still too far above the ground to see anything in great detail, but what he could see was incredible. It was green as far as the eye could see, verdant planes of field and forest. As they continued their descent, they surpassed a small lake, its brilliantly glittering water like a tiny mirror of the sapphire skies above.

 

“Shit,” whispered Nicky to himself, in awe. He’d never seen a natural landscape so beautiful. 

 

For the following half hour, Nicky took in what was below him. Countryside soon turned into small towns scattered here and there, becoming more concentrated the closer they seemed to get to Stuttgart. Finally, the city itself became visible, rows of buildings and homes strung like pearls across the ground. Its reddish roofs clustered together made the city look classically European, but more importantly, they made the city look  _ nothing _ like Columbia. 

 

Nicky could have laughed aloud with relief. 

 

After what seemed to be no time at all, the plane’s wheels touched ground with a bump and slowly rolled to a stop at the terminal. 

 

Nicky had no idea who to expect as he made his way over to Arrivals, following signs in German that pointed him in the right direction, but internally he hoped Erik would be there. Nicky was nervous to meet him face-to-face, but from the countless letters he’d exchanged with Erik throughout the preceding months, he could tell that Erik was a beacon of inner peace. He seemed welcoming and accepting, a rare trait in the people Nicky typically associated with. 

 

He soon rounded a corner and began looking for any of the faces captured in the photograph that he’d studied so many times its edges had begun wearing. At first, he saw no signs of any of the Kloses, but upon further inspection he spotted Erik standing near a retractable barrier. Erik was typing a quick message on his phone but looked up in time to search the incoming crowd for Nicky. 

 

As soon as Nicky locked eyes with Erik, Nicky knew he was in deep shit.

 

His eyes were blue and deep as the ocean over which Nicky had flown to get there. The second the wordless thought leapt up in Nicky’s throat, he just as quickly smothered it. Silently, as he walked closer to his host brother, he forbade himself from Erik. 

 

“Hallo,” said Erik, grinning widely. He had a dimple on his left cheek. “Willkommen in Deutschland!”

 

_ Oh shit _ , thought Nicky, stunned that he’d somehow forgotten.  _ German. _

 

“Hi,” greeted Nicky, switching to his recently-acquired language and returning Erik’s easy smile. “Nice to meet you in real life.”

 

Erik smiled even more, riling something untameable in Nicky’s chest, and motioned for Nicky to follow him. 

 

As the two maneuvered their way through the bustling airport in pursuit of the parking garage, Nicky breezily answered Erik’s questions about the journey from South Carolina, though he barely heard himself. He was preoccupied with taking in everything he saw- and heard- around him. Aside from the occasional Briton on vacation, he heard nothing but the German language coming from airport-goers. It was almost dizzying. 

 

“Everything okay?” asked Erik, looking at Nicky with such a centering, steady expression that Nicky felt a flush down his neck. 

 

_ Stop _ , Nicky demanded himself.

 

“Absolutely,” he said, looping his thumbs through the straps of his backpack. 

 

Erik’s lead eventually terminated at a shining, charcoal-grey sedan parked neatly on the third floor of the garage. Before getting in, Erik took Nicky’s backpack to place in the back seat.

 

“After you,” said Erik as he motioned at the passenger’s side door. “I’m assuming you don’t have a German driver’s license, but I have been known to be wrong.”

 

“You kidding?” chided Nicky as he got into the car, Erik taking the driver’s side. “They barely passed me for a driver’s license in America. I trust myself  _ none _ to drive in Europe.”

 

Erik laughed, warm as a Carolina summer. “In that case, I’ll have to teach you before you go back.”

 

Nicky didn’t think he was serious, but when he looked up, Erik glanced over at him with the gleam of a real promise in his eyes. Wordlessly, Erik cut on music of a bygone era and put the car in reverse. 

 

They were soon on the main road, but as soon as they began discussing the decent Exy program at the school Nicky would be attending that autumn, a phone began to ring. Nicky contented himself with his first views of Stuttgart as Erik answered and began jabbering away in rapid German that was nearly too quick for him. 

 

The city itself was stunning. Fusing old and new styles of architecture, Stuttgart was the quintessential example of a modern European city with roots steeped in rich history. Nicky recognized a handful of statues and buildings from the copious books he’d borrowed from Ms. Till, not believing that he was finally seeing them with his own two eyes. 

 

Within a few minutes’ drive, the bustle of the main city began to die down as they got further from its epicenter and closer to the residential districts. Nicky drank in everything, from the peculiarly thin license plates on foreign cars to a pair of teenage girls strolling down the sidewalk. Even the slightest details would take time to get used to, but Nicky was more than ready for a change of pace. 

 

The sound of Erik’s phone snapping shut drew Nicky’s attention back inside the car. Though Nicky had forced himself not to eavesdrop, he couldn’t help but notice the slightest tension that had drawn itself across Erik’s shoulders. 

 

Erik ran a hand through his thick blond hair. “Sorry about that, it just was my boyfriend.”

 

At his words, Nicky’s stomach bottomed out against his will. Silently refusing to let anything show on his face or become a tangible thought, he settled for a gentle nod and let Erik commence their conversation once more. 

 

If this was how the year would pan out, Nicky was in for absolute hell. There was Erik, with his beautiful face and his kind words and his boyfriend. And then there was Nicky, who had long been shattered from the inside out. He could not,  _ would not _ let Erik in. He was tired to death of his parents hating him. 

 

Yet he couldn’t stop himself from the thought that ran circles around his head: Erik liked guys. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guysss, it's ryan. i don't even know where to begin with this.
> 
> first of all, i apologize deeply for not updating in... y'know... a year and a half... eek. 
> 
> i had a really rough 2017-2018 and i'm just now beginning to do better. i was in a really negative relationship that drained all my time and energy, and i know that's not an excuse but i hope it explains why i seemingly abandoned this fic. 
> 
> however... i haven't abandoned it!! i just finished re-reading aftg for the millionth time and was inspired to keep writing this. 
> 
> so, if there remains on earth even a single person who remembers this fic, welcome back!! and if you're new here, welcome!!! as usual, any questions, suggestions, etc are very much appreciated. thank you guys for being patient through all my bullcrap, and this time, i'm here to stay (: this fic's been at the back of my mind since my last update, so i have tons cool stuff planned for future chapters! hope you guys enjoy. 
> 
> chapter title taken from "something here" by day wave.


	6. Strange Brew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even if he wouldn’t allow himself to get closer, Erik was something bright and faceted. Nicky wanted to understand who he was and why the universe had decided to align them.

The next morning, Nicky awoke at dawn. There was just enough deep blue light filtering past the blinds that Nicky could discern the time on his watch, which read nearly five o’clock in the morning. 

 

Within moments of shutting his eyes again, Nicky knew he wasn’t going to fall back asleep. The newly-instated guest bedroom of the Klose household, which would be Nicky’s for the year, had recently belonged to Erik. Anette had decorated the room as beautifully as she had the rest of the house, and though it was quite comfortable, Nicky was still in a foreign country. He had too much on his mind to simply roll over and let sleep take hold of him.

 

Deciding to give up while he was ahead, Nicky got out of bed and slid on the flannel pajama pants that he’d discarded sometime throughout the night. Most European households didn’t have air conditioning, and instead, windows were opened overnight to let in the cool air. Nicky liked the idea of cycling in fresh air every day, yet it was still too hot under the blankets to justify anything but boxers on his lower half.

 

He stopped briefly at the bathroom across the hall to brush his teeth and wash the last eight hours off of his face, but hesitated in the doorway on his way out. Where would he go? He didn’t particularly want to stare at his bedroom ceiling until someone woke up or unpack without caffeine in his system.

 

Instead, Nicky decided he’d explore the back garden in greater detail. He’d seen it briefly through the kitchen door the previous evening while he and the Kloses ate dinner, and it seemed like a wonderful place to wait while the house was still sleeping. 

 

Treading lightly down the stairs, Nicky found his way through the house and into the backyard. He made it two steps across the porch before he realized he wasn’t alone. 

 

Erik was sitting cross-legged on a throw blanket, hands perched gently atop his knees and eyes slowly coming open at the sound of the back door shutting. Nicky hadn’t seen him at first, as Erik’s space was directly to Nicky’s left in front of a rosebush. When Erik recognized his visitor, expression tranquil as the first pinks of the sunrise behind him, he lifted a hand in greeting.

 

“Sorry,” said Nicky sheepishly, not quite tired enough to forget to use German. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

 

“No worries,” said Erik, tone so relaxed that Nicky believed him. “Would you like to come sit?”

 

It was a suggestion, not an order, so Nicky hesitated. He was tempted to leave Erik alone and return to the living room, but Erik was inexplicably unbothered that Nicky had broken his concentration so abruptly. This was an invitation more than Erik’s verbal one. Nicky crossed the few yards between them and settled next to Erik atop the rug-like blanket. 

 

He could feel Erik studying his profile as Nicky ran his hands across the woven stripes beneath him, and he fought back a flush and the notion that came alongside it. The material was feather-soft.

 

“You like it?” asked Erik. “It’s alpaca wool. I brought it back with me from Peru last summer.”

 

“You’ve been to Peru? I’ve always wanted to see it,” said Nicky, turning his gaze back on Erik.

 

“It’s beautiful,” said Erik. “Especially the mountains; that’s why I went. I hiked for thirty days to Machu Picchu.”

 

“Jesus,” breathed Nicky. He himself could not imagine hiking for one hour, let alone one month. Erik, however, could clearly handle it. His strong arms and golden skin spoke of earthy athleticism, of much time spent outside in the sun. “That is some serious dedication.”

 

Erik’s soft smile flashed wider. “Did you know that being outside lowers your blood pressure?”

 

“I do now,” answered Nicky. No amount of nature could stifle Nicky’s obscene levels of anxiety, but he had no intention of telling that to Erik. “Were you meditating?”

 

“I was,” confirmed Erik. “It’s part of my morning routine.”

 

Nicky took that with a soft hum at the back of his throat and glanced at a bright object half-hidden under Erik’s knee. It was an ashtray of blue glass containing the end of what appeared to be a crisply-rolled cigarette, but inside the translucent paper was a soft green. Nicky had gone to public high school long enough to know it wasn’t tobacco, but he wasn’t one to judge. After having had his own church shred his very personage to bits for years, he was less inclined to listen to everything that Baptism had to say about what was or was not morally upstanding. 

 

Erik must have interpreted Nicky’s gaze correctly- curious, not critical. Instead of trying to defend himself, Erik said, “I’ve heard it’s more popular in America. Have you ever tried it?” Nicky shook his head, but Erik didn’t press him. “Let me know if you ever want to. It does wonders for anxiety, pain, you name it.”

 

Nicky dimly remembered having read an article about the increasing research on its medical benefits. Wanting to avoid a topic about which he knew nothing, Nicky was quiet for a moment as he took Erik in. Letters were one thing, but being near him, being able to understand his energy was something entirely different. 

 

“You’re a bit of a hippie,” deduced Nicky. “Not in a bad way. What kind of music do you like?” 

 

Erik shrugged lightheartedly, as if he was used to the description. “Would you like to see my record collection?”

 

Nicky didn’t know records still existed these days, but he quickly assented. Even if he wouldn’t allow himself to get closer, Erik was something bright and faceted. Nicky wanted to understand who he was and why the universe had decided to align them. 

 

Erik rose, Nicky soon after him. Gathering the blanket and the ashtray, Erik led their way back inside the house and down a flight of wood stairs to the basement. 

 

By now, the sky had lightened enough that they could see the space without having to flip on the lights. The stairwell opened into a spacious living area, complete with a generously long couch, a television console, and even a compact bar lined with bottles of various liquors. 

 

“My dad won’t let me decorate it,” said Erik, “but I saved all the cool shit for my room. Come see.”

 

With that, Erik turned and opened the door to the room on their right. At first, Nicky couldn’t see much, as the finer details of Erik’s bedroom were concealed by a beaded door frame. 

 

“These make a kickass security system,” quipped Erik. “I’ll always be able to hear if someone is trying to get into my room.”

 

Erik slipped into his bedroom with a soft rattle of long wooden beads, Nicky on his heels. When his eyes adjusted to the ambient glow of lamps dimmed with scarves, Nicky’s eyes widened.

 

What should have been a riot on the senses instead synergized flawlessly. Every inch of ceiling was hidden underneath tapestries and flags, intricate patterns enough to make Nicky lightheaded. Vintage concert posters and psychedelic art lined the walls. A massive crystal collection stood atop a wide scarf slung across the dark surface of Erik’s dresser, multi-colored pieces of all shapes and sizes. There were plants everywhere: Pots of fern and ivy hanging from the ceiling, cacti lining the draped windows, and even a cluster of bamboo in the corner. A great rug of a similar pattern to the alpaca blanket Erik was now tossing onto his bed covered a significant portion of the wood floor. 

 

Erik sat down on his bed to shrug out of the pullover he’d been wearing in favor of a t-shirt, which almost made Nicky blush to look at. He seemed to have forewent a bed frame, instead opting to place the box spring and mattress lower to the ground. Pillows of various patterns were strewn in and around the general vicinity. The whole room smelled sweet and earthy, courtesy of an incense cone smoldering in languorous swirls atop a miniscule plate on the windowsill. 

 

“It looks like you kidnapped nineteen-sixties San Francisco and hid it here,” commented Nicky. “This is amazing.”

 

Dimple making an appearance, Erik stood up and crossed to room to an eight-celled shelving unit. Nicky stepped closer, not quite understanding what Erik was kneeling down to look at, and realized that Erik was thumbing through a massive record collection. Finally, Erik seemed to find the selection he’d been searching for and held the cover up for Nicky to see. The album art featured a psychedelic collage, a vivid collection of intense pink and crimson. 

 

“ _ Disraeli Gears, _ ” said Erik. “My dad’s a huge Cream fan. He named me after Eric Clapton.”

 

Nicky watched as Erik moved closer to the storage unit, on top of which was a slim, expensive-looking turntable. Erik slid the record from its case with careful fingers, gave it a once-over for dust, and placed it delicately through the center spindle. The crisp, loving manner in which Erik handled his record was like watching an artist treating a canvas. 

 

The first sounds of fuzzy, bluesy guitar and sultry bass gently flooded the room. Erik’s shoulders seemed to relax ever-so slightly. 

 

“Would you like a coffee?” he asked, turning to Nicky who nodded with zeal in response. Coffee was a must this early in the day. “How do you take it?”

 

“No milk but tons of sugar,” answered Nicky.

 

“Me too,” grinned Erik. Something subtle shifted across his face, but Nicky couldn’t quite read it. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something else but shook his blond head and said, “Be right back.”

 

Nicky set about exploring the room as Erik exited the room, leaving the door beads clinking gently. Next to the turntable was a ceramic bowl of lighters and a few small crystals, one a rosy pink and the other a glittering amber. Nicky plucked the former from its spot and let its cool surface fade into his hand. 

 

Nicky always thought that a person’s bedroom was a strong indicator as to who they were, and moving his gaze across Erik’s ambient space, Nicky knew that Erik was completely at peace with his world. 

 

He wanted that so badly it made his throat burn. 

 

Nicky was examining a stained-glass Moroccan lantern hanging from the ceiling when Erik returned, bearing two mugs of the caffeinated beverage he’d promised. Transferring one to Nicky, Erik sunk into an oversized bean bag chair to the left of his bed and gestured for Nicky to join him on an identical chair opposite him.

 

“What’s that you’ve got?” queried Erik as Nicky situated himself, gazing at Nicky’s left hand. Nicky had almost forgotten that he was still holding the stone, which had since melded with the temperature of his skin. Wordlessly, he stretched his hand open to show Erik. 

 

“It was next to your turntable,” Nicky said, passing it to him. “The color is nice.”

 

“Rose quartz,” explained Erik, curling his fingers slowly around the crystal. “Historians think it was once used as a love token.”

 

Nicky watched Erik consider the stone for a few moments before pocketing it. The two sipped their coffee in a comfortable early morning silence, listening to the sounds of quiet music and birds chirping outside as the sky gradually lightened. Erik’s mother came downstairs a half hour later to bid them farewell before she left for work. Soon after, Celina, who was clad in a ginormous t-shirt that reached below her knees, burst through the door and flopped down face-first onto Erik’s bed.

 

“Are you quite alright?” asked Erik, scowling. “I don’t remember inviting you into my room.”

 

“And  _ I _ don’t particularly care. Mom locked me out of my room because I kept getting back in bed,” answered Celina, voice muffled by the pillow in which she pressed her face. 

 

“And for good reason. You have camp in a half hour and you aren’t dressed,” said Erik. “If you miss the bus, Mom will cook me for dinner and serve me with seasonal vegetables.”

 

Celina rolled over lazily to stare at the ceiling as she considered this. It was a silent bid for the upper hand: Erik, who was staring at her with his arms crossed, and Celina, who had since pulled a throw blanket across her lower half. Finally, it ended the second Celina closed her eyes and was subjected to a pillow dropped upon her face. 

 

“Fuck off then,” said Celina with no real heat behind it, rolling herself into the blanket like a human burrito as she slid off the bed and waddled to the door. “Will you make me food?”

 

“Whatever,” said Erik lightly, waving her off. She exited with a rude hand gesture as Erik stood from his bean bag chair, turning to Nicky. “Breakfast?”

 

A few hours later, Erik and Nicky were outside again. Nicky was unaccustomed to being able to bear the outdoors this late in the summer, as South Carolina was swamp-like and devilishly hot this time of year, but Germany clearly had other ideas. It was a balmy, cloudless day, ideal for their current activity of sipping cold orange juice and playing rummy with a well-worn deck of cards. Several minutes into the game, Erik’s cell phone rang from his back pocket.

 

Erik answered and began speaking his particular brand of German that came as a first language privilege. Since he arrived, Nicky had been speaking German, but objectively knew the Klose family spoke clearer to him than they did to each other for his benefit. 

 

It was a point of interest for Nicky, as it served as a reference for his growth in learning. A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to comprehend most of Erik’s fast-paced, casual form of conversation. Listening now, however, he realized he could piece together most of Erik’s reponses. 

 

He hung up a few moments later and then asked Nicky, “Would you like to meet my friends tonight?”

 

Nicky did his best to ignore the anxious thrum through his stomach. He barely knew how to talk to people who went to his high school; how was he supposed to keep up with Europeans who were two years older than him and undoubtedly just as interesting as Erik?

 

Then he looked at Erik, and his thoughts went silent. Nicky was an ocean away from Columbia, a universe away from his life there, and no one knew who he was or what his past looked like. 

 

He could be whoever he wanted. Perhaps simply being himself would suffice. 

 

“I’d love to,” said Nicky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey folks, i hope everyone is doing well!! i apologize that not very much happened in this chapter, but i promise that a LOT will happen in the next chapter.. be prepared! i’ve been busy with preparation for a cruise and wanted to at least post something before i left. i will hopefully be doing some writing during that time but may not be able to post for a few weeks (i will return on the 20th and will still have to transcribe and edit and all that). as usual, please feel free to leave any questions/concerns/etc in the comments below, you are all very appreciated! hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> chapter title taken from "strange brew" by cream.


	7. While I'm Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took all he had not to imagine what Erik’s lips would feel like against his instead, and even more not to want it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: alcohol use; non-consensual kissing

Despite Nicky’s apprehensions, he and Erik both passed the bouncer’s brief inspection at the door of the bar. Nicky tried not to feel too proud of his height for working in his favor, but once inside, he and Erik shared a quick triumphant grin.

 

“Told you it would work,” said Erik, brushing his fingers across Nicky’s upper arm. Every nerve across Nicky’s body crackled with sudden energy. “Bouncers here never check ID.”

 

Tonight, Erik and his friends were gathering here in support of one of them- Henri- as he performed for the first time as the new lead of a band that frequented the place. Nicky hadn’t the faintest idea what to expect. He’d never even been to so much as a house party, let alone a real bar with people who were legally old enough to sue each other. The idea was daunting, but at least Nicky would have alcohol to soften his nerves.

 

The venue itself was spacious yet somehow intimate. A generously-sized platform created an ideal stage against the far wall, amps and microphones already set up for the band’s impending performance. Lining the opposite wall was a massive oak bar, stools occupied by laughing drinkers. Most of the small tables were filled with patrons, the majority of whom appeared to be in their early-to-mid twenties. 

 

The smattering of tables cumulated in a wide breadth from the stage, presumably leaving a space for dancing and mingling. Erik, who seemed to be looking around the room, finally caught the eye of a girl who was waving him over enthusiastically from a table close to the stage. 

 

Erik lit up. “Nat!” he called, gesturing for Nicky to follow. 

 

Erik’s friends had pushed two round tables together in order to make room for six chairs, though only three were occupied: two girls at one table and a tall young man at the other. There were already several empty shot glasses and pints next to a fresh round, and as Erik drifted up to the table, he reached for some of the amber liquid and knocked it back. 

 

“Damn, Klose,” commented the man, reaching over to Erik for a clean slap-fist-bump greeting that Nicky had seen several German teenagers share. “You’re not fucking around.”

 

“This is Nicky, everyone,” announced Erik, pulling Nicky beside him. “Please do not scare him back to America.”

 

“Oh, you’re beautiful,” said the girl who had waved them over, Nat. Her dyed blonde hair was cut in stylishly blunt bangs to frame a clever face, deep red lipstick applied flawlessly. “Erik, why didn’t you tell me he was beautiful? I’m Natascha. Are you gay? You’re too pretty to be straight.”

 

Nicky’s heart could have stopped beating. He was uncomfortable telling himself that he was gay, let alone a complete stranger, but he didn’t want the first thing he said to Erik’s friends to be a lie. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’m just… Nicky, I guess.”

 

“You’re  _ perfect _ . I’d love to draw you,” Natascha said. “Come sit!”

 

Nicky didn’t get the sense that she was flirting, just being friendly in the blunt manner for which Germans were known. Obediently, Nicky settled into the chair between the two girls that Natascha was patting gently. 

 

“I’m Sofia,” said the girl to his left as Erik took a seat at the other table. Sofia was a petite brunette with a light dusting of freckles across her nose. “It’s nice to finally meet you! Erik hasn’t been able to shut up about you for months.”

 

Erik wrinkled his nose in contempt. “You are all such drama queens.”

 

“Whatever, Gandhi,” responded the young man, snatching a beer from Nicky’s table. “I’m Stefan. Erik’s coolest friend.”

 

“Fuck off, Stef,” said Natascha. “How could you suggest that Sofia isn’t cooler than you?”

 

Stefan, who had tattoos down both arms, light eyes, and hair dark enough to rival Nicky’s Mexican genes, flashed a wicked grin in lieu of response.

 

“Erik, did Michael say he was coming tonight?” asked Sofia. “We grabbed a chair for him.”

 

“Yeah, or is he going to flake for the ninety-fifth time this month?” asked Stefan, devious smirk making a reappearance. Sofia pulled a lime slice off the rim of one of the emptied glasses and lobbed it at Stefan’s cheek, hitting its mark with a wet slap. 

 

The group dropped the conversation, but Nicky couldn’t ignore the anxious pull to Erik’s shoulders as he looked over to the bar’s entrance and then turned away, disappointed. Nicky didn’t know what that feeling was in his chest, but he hated it.

 

“Feel free to take any of these Nicky,” said Natascha, drawing Nicky’s attention back to the table. She was gesturing at the extensive line of alcoholic drinks in front of them. “Have you ever had German beer?”

 

Nicky had never even had an entire American beer, but he deemed this irrelevant to the conversation. Instead, he cautiously pulled a pint of the dark beverage closer and took a sip. To his surprise, it was pleasantly rich and smooth.

 

The five of them continued to drink, Erik conversing with Stefan and the girls dancing in their seats to the filler music overhead. Nicky was content to observe them, as he’d never had a close-knit group of friends back home. He learned that Natascha was an artist, clarifying her comment that she’d like to draw Nicky. Sofia attended a school for cosmetology, though her face was free of makeup and her hair color appeared natural. Her skill was evident, however, when Natascha revealed that it was Sofia who’d cut and dyed her hair. 

 

While Nicky finished his beer, hops going straight to his head, a small crowd of people gathered close to the stage as the band came on to begin tuning. Natascha wolf-whistled loudly as a short blond with a nose ring took center stage, carrying with him a sleek electric guitar.

 

“That’s Henri,” said Sofia to Nicky. “We’ll all hang out after the set.”

 

Erik, who had momentarily disappeared into the crowd to pick up yet another round of drinks, returned bearing a tray of what appeared to be vodka shots. 

 

“Jesus Christ,” laughed Nicky, the night’s liquid courage beginning to set in. “Germans know how to party.”

 

“This is just the beginning,” said Stefan, knocking back one of the shots.

 

As the rest of the group reached for the newest liquid addition to the table, Nicky contemplated whether he should follow suit. He’d never been drunk in his life and had no basis as to how his body and mind would react. What if he did or said something he’d regret horribly come morning?

 

But then he looked over to find Erik looking back, blue eyes dark as night in the dim lighting. Erik gazed down at the miniscule glasses and then back again at Nicky, a silent but unhurried question. As long as he’d known Erik, Erik had always given him a choice.

 

When in Rome…

 

_ Fuck it _ , thought Nicky, plucking a shot glass from the table and imbibing the whole of it in a valiant gulp. It burned like hellfire on the way down, uncomfortable yet fleeting. Nat offered him a sip of her soda as a chaser.

 

As he and Erik had eaten dinner over two hours before, Nicky began to feel the liquor’s effect a few short minutes later. His head swam with a thick buzz that, contrary to his preconceived skepticism, he greatly enjoyed. Suddenly, the prospect of letting his guard down around Erik and his friends did not seem so outlandish. 

 

Soon, bright lights of purple and blue ignited the stage. Scattered cheers and applause sounded throughout the room as the bassist thrummed the first notes of the night, Henri soon following on guitar.

 

Bar patrons soon filled the floor, and Natascha whistled once again as Henri’s voice drifted through the speakers. He sang wonderfully, crisp tone ideal of the band’s lively indie sound.

 

“Will you come dance with us?” Sofia half-shouted in Nicky’s ear over the din.

 

Nicky, in fact, loved to dance but rarely had the opportunity- or the nerve- to do so. Erik and Stefan were locked in a loud, drunken conversation, which Nicky took as a cue to do as he pleased. He reached for a second vodka shot, knocked it back with a marginally greater ease than the first, and let the girls pull him onto the dance floor.

 

In the best way possible, Nicky had no idea what had gotten into him. Back home, he could hardly ask a question in class without anxiously deliberating for ten minutes beforehand. Tonight, he was drinking and dancing and laughing with total strangers, inhibitions seemingly shoved out the window. As he let Natascha spin him under her arm, bright lights flashing past, he thought that perhaps he finally learn to be happy this year.

 

Thirty minutes into the set and another round of drinks later, Stefan, red-cheeked from the liquor, shoved his way over to Nicky and the girls. He had a vaguely irritated expression on his face as he said something into Sofia’s ear, and Sofia in turn nudged a rowdy Natascha. The three friends looked in the direction of their table, Nicky unable to stop himself from doing the same.

 

Erik was drawn up to his full height in anger as he appeared to argue vehemently with a new face- a tall, sullen brunet who already had a glass in his hand. Nicky supposed this was Michael, though why Stefan and the girls looked so peeved he didn’t know. Briefly, he also registered that he’d never seen Erik angry. 

 

Nicky looked away when the other three did, accepting a distraction in the form of Stefan throwing his arms across his and Nat’s shoulders.

 

He would have had gladly danced away the night, intoxicated and without a care in the world, but he looked back at Erik a few minutes later without really knowing why. Against his will, Nicky’s stomach gave a sick lurch as he realized that Erik and Michael were no longer arguing, but kissing.

 

Ah. So this was the boyfriend.

 

That Erik and Michael were publicly displaying affection so openly was more than a little discomforting to Nicky. Bible verses and his father’s sermons echoed through his head, twisting his insides. He didn’t know what he felt. Guilt? Embarrassment? Disgust?

 

Jealousy?

 

Sofia noticed and subsequently misinterpreted Nicky’s gaze, for she placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. It’s a bit annoying, but they do this all the time. He’ll be fine, I promise.”

 

Not wanting to draw Sofia’s suspicion, he buried whatever it was and gave her a bright thumbs-up, letting her pull him back into the night. It took all he had not to imagine what Erik’s lips would feel like against his instead, and even more not to want it.

 

Nicky was allotted another glorious hour of worry-free dancing and drinking before the inevitable introduction to Erik’s boyfriend. As the set began to wind down, Sofia decided the couple appeared to be out of danger of another argument and led the group back to the tables to wait for Henri. 

 

Erik looked up from his glass as his friends approached and sidled up to Nicky as soon as he was within range, gently herding him closer to Michael than he would have liked. Though there was still a table between them, he’d just had his tongue down Erik’s throat, which was reason enough to want the entire room between them.

 

“This is Nicky,” Erik said to Michael. “Remember I told you about him?”

 

Michael nodded at Nicky in greeting but didn’t say anything, something Nicky did not particularly mind. 

 

A small commotion from the other table drew Nicky’s attention. Henri had joined back up with the group and was immediately intercepted by the girls as they embraced him, raving about his performance. They soon surrounded the glass-laden space in front of Nicky and the other two, Natascha making the brief introduction between Henri and Nicky. 

 

“Oh, shit,” said Henri, glancing back at the bartender shooing away newcomers. “Is it already midnight? No way in hell am I going to a club for drinks.”

 

“That’s what my house is for,” grinned Erik, patting Henri’s shoulder. “Let’s get a beer in you.”

  
  


***

  
  


Once back at the house, Nicky made a single unsuccessful attempt to leave Erik and his friends alone. The group silently headed to the basement so as to not wake the rest of the household, Erik at the back, as Nicky detoured to the other stairwell.

 

Erik nabbed the front of Nicky’s shirt before he cleared so much as a meter, pulling him back. “Going somewhere?” he asked, playful smile relaxed with liquor. 

 

Nicky forced himself to ignore Erik’s hand where it remained gently placed against his chest and said, “I don’t want to intrude. They’re your friends.”

 

Erik slid his hand up and pressed two fingers against Nicky’s lips. Nicky froze in place and felt the flush all the way down his neck, looking up at Erik with wide eyes.

 

“Shh. Don’t start with that,” Erik said. “They absolutely love you.”

 

Even as Erik removed his hand, Nicky was struck completely speechless, heart hammering in his chest. His first thought was  _ They actually like me? _ ; the second  _ What the hell is he doing to me? _

 

Nicky knew that if he went up to bed at the present moment, his racing thoughts would not allow him to catch a wink of sleep before dawn. What was the harm in distracting himself until then?

 

“If you insist,” said Nicky, feigning nonchalance as he allowed Erik to lead him downstairs. 

 

In the living area, the group had already broken out a deck of cards and were gathered around the coffee table, Stefan smoothly dealing into seven piles. Erik and Nicky took up the gap left between the girls, Erik stopping on his way to place a six-pack and a handle of whisky in the center.

 

Nicky suddenly felt eyes on him, and he glanced up to find Michael looking at him across the table. Nicky couldn’t help but crook an eyebrow in response, asking a silent  _ What? _ It wasn’t like him to be outright rude, not even to stranger, but there was something about Michael besides the obvious that he didn’t like. Michael said nothing, just looked away after a second too long to be comfortable. 

 

Everyone but Nicky continued drinking while they played, as Nicky’s tolerance for alcohol would take more than just a night to reach theirs. He didn’t quite know what to make of the fact that as the group became more and more intoxicated, Michael became more talkative in turn- especially towards Nicky. On one hand, he was at least glad that someone who was clearly important to Erik didn’t seem to completely hate him. On the other hand, however, there was something at the back of Nicky’s mind telling him not to trust Michael, something he was inclined to follow. Natascha, Sofia, Henri, and Stefan seemed to be having a sort of non-verbal conversation with their eyes that Nicky could only assume was about the very situation, as they kept flicking glances at Michael.

 

Nearly an hour later, the group finished the first round of the game with Stefan taking the win. Stefan decided to go for a celebratory cigarette before the second round, taking outside with him Henri and the girls.

 

While Erik and Michael conversed about various unfamiliar names and places, Nicky collected the cards strewn about the table and sat back down on the couch to wait.

 

“Oh, Jesus,” said Erik, surveying the coffee table before him. The whisky and beer had long since vanished, the beginnings of a second six-pack joining the many empty bottles. “We drink like liver transplant waitlisters. I’ll go recycle some of these while I still have control over my limbs.”

 

Erik noisily gathered as many bottles as he could carry and slipped up the stairs, leaving Nicky alone with Michael.

 

It should not have made him as anxious as it did, but Nicky still had the barely-controlled urge to cut and run immediately. It intensified exponentially as Michael stood and gestured at the space next to Nicky, asking “Mind if I sit here?”

 

_ I sure as hell _ do  _ mind _ , thought Nicky, but instead answered, “Go for it.”

 

“Erik told me you play Exy, yeah?” Michael asked as he sat a hair’s breadth too close for comfort. Nicky crossed his legs away from Michael in a subtle response and confirmed what he’d asked as truth.

 

“It gets out my aggression. I don’t know if I’ll play in college, though,” Nicky added. Palmetto State University, his first choice school, had a great marketing program but a fractured mess of an Exy team. Then again, perhaps that meant he’d fit in perfectly.

 

“Hm,” said Michael. “I’ve always thought Exy guys were hot.”

 

“Wha-” was all Nicky managed before he was cut off by Michael, who planted a hand on Nicky’s thigh, leaned into his space, and crushed his lips against Nicky’s. 

 

Every neuron of Nicky’s brain screamed in alarm, and Nicky flew out of his seat in an instant. 

 

“What the hell is your problem?” Nicky demanded, instinctively backing as far away from Michael as the coffee table would let him. Nicky expected embarrassment, perhaps regret, on Michael’s face, but all he saw was bitterness. 

 

“What does it look like I’m doing? You’ve never been kissed before?” responded Michael, scornful expression darkening into something that sent Nicky’s eyes flickering towards his possible escape routes. 

 

“Not by a  _ guy _ ,” was the first thing that escaped Nicky’s mouth, and though that was not truly his primary concern, he took a moment to resent that it had been his first kiss with a male. He shook his head and amended, “I’ve given you no reason to think I was into you, and Erik is a floor above us. That’s messed up.”

 

“Fuck you,” snapped Michael.

 

“ _ What? _ ” asked Nicky incredulously. “Fuck  _ you. _ I’m not the one who just tried to make out with his boyfriend’s house guest!”

 

Movement from above startled Nicky into attention, and he took a moment to contain himself upon realizing that Erik was coming back downstairs. It was not his place to begin an argument that could potentially ruin Erik’s relationship, and as Erik returned to the living area, Nicky buried everything rioting through his head and wiped his face clean of emotion. Erik, however, appeared to see straight past it and looked between Michael and Nicky, the latter of whom was still standing alarmingly far away from the former. 

 

“Is everything okay?” Erik asked, question presumably directed at both though his eyes were only on Nicky. 

 

Nicky risked the briefest of glances at Michael, whose expression dared Nicky to tell Erik what every instinct desired to tell him. To Nicky, the sheer emotional depravity of feeling not regret or sorrow for having kissed someone else but derision towards the other for not reciprocating was incomprehensible. 

 

Nicky buried it for later. “Everything’s fine. I was actually just heading up to bed,” he replied, forcing a smile onto his features that he hoped gave away nothing. Erik didn’t look as if he believed it in the slightest, but let Nicky pass him on his way to the stairwell. 

 

As Nicky did not want to appear any more suspicious than he clearly already had, he wasn’t quite fast enough up the stairs to tune out the beginnings of the resulting fight between Michael and Erik. 

 

“What the hell did you say to him?” asked Erik venomously. “What, it’s not enough to hit on everything male you pass on the street? He’s staying in my  _ house _ , Michael!”

 

Michael shot back a hostile retort, but Nicky cleared the remaining steps and closed the door behind him before he could hear any more.

 

Nicky practically scrambled up the second stairwell in an attempt to get to his room as quickly as possible, and once there, he flipped the lamp on and fell face-forward onto his bed. It was the dawn of his third day in Germany, and in some ways, he already felt worse than he had in Columbia. 

 

He was still mildly intoxicated from his earlier drinks, and his head had begun to hurt after having moved so suddenly. He rolled onto his back, staring at his ceiling half-panicked, for an endless minute before painstakingly climbing to his feet. If was going to stay up the entire night processing what had just happened, he should at least be wearing more comfortable clothes.

 

Head swimming, he trusted his legs none to hold him up. He sunk to his knees in front of the full-length mirror attached to the closet door, but before he could pull out a shirt from his half-unpacked suitcase, he caught sight of his face. His dark eyes were wide and frantic, brows knitted with worry. His lips still tingled- the lips that Michael had kissed, the lips that Erik had touched, fingers warm and steady against his skin. 

 

Erik would never forgive him.

 

_ Who are you who are you who the fuck are you? _

 

His fingers shook as he unbuttoned his shirt, and as he pulled on a t-shirt in its place, he heard from downstairs the sound of heavy boots stalking across wood floor. The front door opened, then slammed shut in anger, and the house went quiet.

 

Moments later, Erik appeared in the doorway and leaned gently against the frame. He was still visibly drunk, but his face was soft as he met Nicky’s eyes. 

 

“I just came to say goodnight,” Erik said. One of his thumbs was hooked in his belt loop, exposing a sliver of skin below the hem of his shirt. Despite everything, Nicky’s cheeks went warm. “I hope Michael said nothing rude to you. He can be an asshole.”

 

Nicky dimly registered that now would be a perfect opportunity to tell Erik what had really happened, but he ignored it. “He didn’t say anything rude,” said Nicky, which was technically the truth. “I promise.”

 

Erik took this with a nod. “Stef and the others came back inside. You sure you don’t want to play another round?”

 

Tonight, Erik had sneaked Nicky into a bar and refused to let Nicky’s insecurities cut the night short. Nicky, who had never had friends, did not know to how say this to Erik, so instead lied, “Yeah, I’m sure. I’d probably fall asleep on top of the cards.”

 

Erik’s dimpled smile joined his features. He looked at the mirror and then at Nicky, who was still sitting directly in front of it, like he knew exactly what Nicky had been doing. Erik hiccuped lightly, then said, “Nat’s right, you know. You really are beautiful. I can tell you don’t think so, but I hope you do someday.”

 

Nicky opened his mouth, then closed it again. Something warm as the sun started at his throat and spread throughout his body. He didn’t know what he could possibly say, so he settled for a simple, “Thank you.”

 

Erik shrugged. “Just the truth. Anyways, goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight,” Nicky said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. 

 

That night, his thoughts kept him awake until the sky began to lighten. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohgodi'msosorryforhowtrashthisis. it began super abruptly bc i wrote a scene before they got to the bar but it sounded terrible so i cut it. anyways, apparently nicky looks like a whole snack and erik's fuckin wildin??? lmfao. hope you guys enjoyed!!
> 
> chapter title taken from "while i'm alive" by strfkr.


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